We Need to Talk
by 47alwayswriting
Summary: Beckett forces Castle to tell her what's wrong. Set right after 47 Seconds. One-shot


_I should be studying, but this was in the way ;). This desperately needs some editing, but for now, I'll leave it like this. _

_Set right after 4x19 47 Seconds._

_Enjoy._

_*For those who've read this earlier, I've added some bits that make it a bit better :) Thanks for your amazing response. Xx_

* * *

_Ryan and Esposito leave after they decline Kate's invitation for a drink. _

"So I guess it's just us," Kate says.

"Yeah," Castle says reluctantly. He seems a bit uncomfortable.

"So now that the case is done. What did you want to talk about?"

He looks up in surprise, she sees the hesitation in his eyes. Eventually he deflates and says, "Nothing. Nothing important anyway."

She nods, but she still wonders what it was. When he started that conversation earlier he seemed nervous. It seemed important.

"I'm going to head home," he says and turns around.

Her own words ring in her ears. _It makes you think about all the things in your own life that you don't want to put off anymore._

"Castle!" she calls out and he turns around. She can't read anything from his face. His eyes have turned cold, distant. She wonders what happened. "Remember what I said earlier?"

Confusion draws is eyebrows together and he shakes his head. A flash of hurt seems to cross his eyes before he's buried it deep inside him.

"About all the things I don't want to put off anymore? Talk to me. What you wanted to say seemed important earlier," she says as she closes the distance between them and stands right in front of him.

"I told you, it was nothing," he spits out and she sees the hurt and confusion more clearly now.

"What happened?" she asks. She yearns to reach out to him, hold his hand.

"Nothing happened," he grits. He refuses to look at her now, his face stone cold.

"Castle," she says softly and his eyes shoot to hers out of their own will it seems, because as soon as their eyes meet he looks away again. "Talk to me." She can't handle this. He can't pull away just like that. Not after how far they've come. Not now she's almost where she wants to be.

"It's not important," he tries again and starts to turn back around. Her hand shoots out at its own accord and grabs his elbow. He seems to bounce back to face her, shock written all over his face. He hadn't expected her to physically hold him back. Kate sees the indecision in his eyes. He could easily break her hold and walk away but something's stopping him.

His eyes meet hers again and he must see some of that desperation in her face because he deflates. "I was going to tell you something, but it turns out you already know," he says, anger evident in his voice.

"What were you going to tell me?" She's desperate for answers, needs to know what caused him to retreat.

He stares at his feet, clenches his jaw in suppressed anger. When he looks back up she can't read him. All she sees is the persona she met four years ago, gone is the amazing man she got to know and maybe love.

"Rick…" she tries again, doesn't care that the desperation is dripping from her voice, it must show on her face too because he opens his mouth in reply before closing it again. She can see that he's holding himself back.

"You said you remember every second of it, so there's no need to tell you," he grits out eventually.

She remembers every second of it? _Oh no._ He must've been in the observation room when she was interrogating Bobby Lopez. He must've heard…

She takes his hand and pulls him into the break room. She closes the door behind them for privacy. He doesn't protest, but he doesn't cooperate either. He drags his heels, seems reluctant to be in there with her.

"Rick," she murmurs, "I'm sorry." His eyes skim hers, but there's no emotion in them. Nothing. Just empty sockets. She thought she was good at hiding her emotions, but it turns out he's right there with her.

She sighs as she slumps down at the table. "How did this get so messed up?" she asks herself.

"We don't talk." His voice comes out of nowhere and startles her. She didn't expect him to respond.

"Then let's talk." She mentions for him to sit down too.

He doesn't move. "Beckett, I'm not in the mood for this. We're both tired. Maybe we should just go home and sleep on it. Talk about it tomorrow."

She shakes her head. "No. We're not going to put this off. We're doing this now. If we don't there's going to be something in the way and this will get even worse than it already is. So sit."

He can see that she's just going to drag him back in here if he doesn't do what she says so he sighs deeply as he sits in the chair opposite her. A flash of disappointment courses though her before she squashes it down. She hoped that he would sit at the head of the table, like always, but at least he's here. Though it doesn't seem likely that he will be the one to start talking, so she takes a deep breath and searches her mind for the right words. Unfortunately, he's usually the one with the words.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, "I should've told you earlier, but the longer I waited the harder it seemed to get. Before, I couldn't tell you, because I wasn't ready. I needed to heal."

He doesn't respond, just keeps staring at his hands. Feeling a little helpless by his lack of response, she blunders on. "Later, I felt like I could tell you, but then what if I had waited too long and you'd get mad at me? What if you'd leave me?" The vulnerability and sincerity in her voice seem to surprise him as he looks up at her.

"You know I could never leave you," he says, iron encasing his tone. She looks down at her clasped hands. He said _could_, not _would. _Like he _would_ if he could make himself. She feels tears prickling in her eyes. He wants to leave her, but he can't, that's messed up they are.

She almost doesn't hear him continue over the rush of blood in her ears from holding back the tears. "If you would've just told me that you don't feel the same, I would've understood. But keeping it from me and leading me on? That's what's really pissing me off, Kate." The anger in his voice is becoming more apparent and yet he still doesn't shout. She marvels over the control he seems to have.

"You think that I don't feel the same?," she breathes as his words hit her.

"It's obvious that you don't," he mutters. She has hurt him yet again.

"Castle, look at me," she says and he raised his gaze to meets hers slowly. There's suppressed hope in them. Like he doesn't dare himself to hope. She mentally beats herself up. How could she do this to him? She's hurt him over and over and she can't forgive herself for doing that, even if she was healing.

She reaches for his hand and entwines their fingers. "I have made so many mistakes this past year and I don't want to use my wall as an excuse anymore. You know what's left of that wall? Rubble. Nothing more. So there's nowhere to hide anymore. Castle, do you remember what I told you last year? On the swings?"

"That you couldn't have the kind of relationship you want with that wall. But now it's down and here we are. I thought you were talking about me, Kate. I'm such an idiot."

"Yes, you are," she declares, he looks defeated so she decides to spell it out for him. "I _was _talking about you, Castle."

The suppressed hope now flares free and she smiles a little at the sight. He looks a little less helpless and it's good to see the cold disappear and that warmth she loves return to his features. Even if it's not like before.

"You were?" he asks and finally he moves to_ his_ chair perpendicular to hers, causing their legs to bump into each other. They draw closer together, unable to fight the magnetism.

"I was," she whispers.

The edges of his mouth lift a fraction and even though it's not much – not enough – her heart starts to thump wildly.

He lets go of her hand and her stomach drops, but then his palm is cradling her cheek and there is nothing she can do to stop her eyes from fluttering shut and leaning her cheek into his palm.

"You're not forgiven, you know," he says quietly and she can still hear the hurt in his voice.

"I know. I didn't expect you to forgive me so easily," she whispers and she feels him lean closer, feels his breath on her cheek, her ear.

"It's going to take more than an apologize," he murmurs into her ear and she opens her eyes to find his only a few inches away. They stare at each other for a moment as he caresses her cheekbone. Sparks of electricity runs over her spine as she stares into the blue depths. Then he suddenly pulls back and glances towards the window.

She's amazed that he still has the wits to remember that they are still at the precinct and that they are most definitely watched.

"I think we should continue this conversation in a more private setting," he says, his voice a little rough.

"Yeah, we should." She takes a deep breath and leans back. Removes herself from temptation. She stands and says, "Meet me by my car in a minute."

He winks at her and she takes her leave. When she exits the break room she sees a small group of officers and detectives scatter and pretend to be making phone calls or observing a murder board.

She smiles and steps into the elevator. They gave them something to talk about. Castle was right. She shouldn't kiss him in the precinct. They need to maintain a professional working relationship, if not for Gates, for the victims. They deserve their best effort.

It doesn't take him long to find her leaning against the hood of her car. He doesn't stop walking when he reaches her, but crowds in front of her. His face an inch for hers. "You sure you want to do this?" he asks.

"I've put this off for way too long. I love you, Castle," she tells him and before she knows it her words are smothered by his mouth. The kiss is fast and needy and over way too fast.

"I love you too," he mutters against her lips.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
